Regionals: Here's To Us
by NatashaKay
Summary: A sequel to The Michael Aftermath. Sebastian is now really sure of how he feels for a certain vixen who keeps pushing him away, but who's to make the final decision, if not divine intervention? Based right after episode 14 of season 3.


**Here is the sequel to my first Sebtana fic, _The Michael Aftermath_, due to many demands for one after you darling readers requested for one. (: It was incredibly wonderful writing this out for you all to read. I do still ship Brittana, but I'd love to see a blooming relationship between Sebastian and Santana.**

**This fic takes place right after Regionals, thus cancelling out the ending of season 3's episode 14 where Rachel gets married and the car accident (shan't spoil the episode for those who has yet to watch episode 14).**

**Note: Characters are a bit OOC (out-of-character), but I did try to stick to their original characteristics as much as possible.**

**I do not own anything of Glee; make no money from the stories; the characters and their original lines belong to the creators, producers, and scriptwriters. Any events related to real life are purely coincidental. **

**And now, I present to you _Regionals: Here's To Us_.**

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><p>They lost Regionals. For the second time in a row, the Dalton Academy Warblers had lost Regionals. Fatigue and frustration, among others, could be felt emitting from the other Warblers as they made their way to the William McKinley High School cafeteria for refreshments.<p>

"And to think going all out, dancing like that on stage would win over the judges' hearts," someone mumbled.

Sebastian could hardly believe they came in second to a group of banded ragtag misfits from a _public_ school. Sure, the New Directions were good, but the Dalton Academy Warblers were _better_; no one in the state of Ohio could do an a cappella like they could. And everyone thought the Warblers only _swayed_ while they sang. How wrong they were when we did those songs _and_ managed to dance at the same time, Sebastian grimaced to himself.

He looked around the cafeteria, his gaze falling on two New Directioners in their black and gold assemble by the vending machine, their arms stacked with various cans of soft drinks, packets of crisps, Red Vines, and an assortment of other junk they called snacks. Leaving the Warblers to fend for themselves, he strode towards the two.

"If it isn't the Irish and the one with Tourrette's," Sebastian greeted coldly, hands clasped behind his back. "Congratulations on your Regionlas win; I'm sure your father's generous donation to the vampire guy was enough for a guaranteed win," he said to Sugar.

"Okay, first off, it's Asperger's. And two, my Daddy did _not_ bribe the judges," she sneered. "We won because we're better," she added smugly with her head held high.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at her. Her nose was incredibly sharp. "Can you even sing with that beak? Your voice is sharper than knife on glass."

"Hey, lay off her, Sebastian," the Irish said.

Sebastian turned his attention to him now. "Don't you have some Lucky Charms to steal? And don't the Irish have red hair? Had to dye it to blend in, didn't you, carrot top?" The boy in question only glowered at him in response.

"What do you want, Sebastian?" the girl asked, obviously feeling awkward with Rory and Sebastian staring each other down. Honestly, if they both had heat vision, they'd be burnt to crisp by now. She huffed in annoyance at the immaturity of boys nowadays.

The Warbler turned to her, a sickly sweet smile on his handsome face. "Tell me where Santana is."

"_Please_," the girl added sarcastically the same time the Irish answered, "The choir room."

"Thank you," Sebastian said, inclining his head as politely as possible. He put his hands in the pockets of his trousers and promptly left the two squabbling about Irish telling him where Santana was at the moment.

He made his way out of the crowded room to the hallways. Deciding to explore a little bit of this public school, -besides locating the choir room, of course- he walked down endless hallways, stopping only to read random posters that caught his eye. Not very creative, these McKinley kids, he thought to himself. Especially with the "motivational" posters copyrighted to one E. Pillsbury-Schuester.

Finally, he came across an open door whose room's light spilled out on to the dark hallway. The occupants in the room could be heard chatting animatedly, their voices echoing on the lockers in the hall. Sebastian strode in casually, as if he had been walking into that room often, putting a stop to the ongoing conversation in the room.

"Something you want, horse face?"

He could easily identify that voice. It had a smug and snide tone to it, but he knew better than that.

Sebastian turned to the speaker. "Hello, Santana. I've been looking for you," he smiled as sincerely as he could without looking like his usual sarcastic self. He noted that she was glaring at him, arms crossed. Also, Brittany was standing next to her with the most vacant expression on her face. Ditzy girl.

"What do you want?" Santana asked again.

"I'd simply like to speak to you. Outside, perhaps?"

"Look, I think you should leave, man," Finn said, stepping out to the front of the group, bowtie askew. "She doesn't want to go with yo-"

"Fine." Santana cut in.

The whole room turned to her. "What?" a few people whispered.

"Fine," she repeated.

Sebastian tried his best to hide his smug face, but failed miserably. Many New Directioners who caught his eye looked away uncomfortably, including the Irish kid and the one with the Tourette's -_ahem_- Asperger's.

"Santana, you don't have to go with him if you don't want to," Rachel interjected. "We-"

Sebastian seethed internally. This annoying Berry girl was getting on his last nerve with her high speed talking and know-it-all attitude. He angled his body to face her. "My team's having a Best Warbler Award based on votes. Would you care to sabotage the poll, Berry?" he retorted with a sneer. "I'm sure that will go lovely in your NYADA application." The girl could only gape at him in shock.

"No, Finn, stop," Rachel said gently to her boyfriend -fiancé, _whatever_- with a hand on his chest. Was he actually going to _lunge_ at me? Sebastian couldn't help but to smirk again, raising a challenging eyebrow.

"Where's Jeff?" Quinn made to move next to Sebastian, tapping him once on the shoulder.

"Cafeteria." He turned to Santana. "Shall we?"

"Santana, you-" Rachel started again.

"Can it, Hobbit," the Latino snapped. She grabbed Sebastian's hand and tugged him to the exit. "Let's go. The faster you get talking, the faster I can get back in here."

Before reaching the door, Sebastian turned back, addressing the room, except Quinn, who had gone out to look for Jeff. "Congratulations on winning Regionals, Mr Schuester, on behalf of the Warblers."

A "thank you, Sebastian" was all he heard before Santana yanked him roughly from the choir room. He smirked.

She dragged him to an adjacent hallway, the only one that didn't seem to have people milling about or couples making out against the lockers. The lights in the hallway were switched off, save for one fluorescent flickering overhead.

She threw him against a locker, causing him to wince at the contact. Before he could get a word in, she had her lips pressed on his. His eyes widened in surprise, but he leaned in, kissing her back all the same.

"Wh-" he breathed after she pulled back.

"I can't do this anymore, Sebastian," she muttered, cutting him off. Her hands were gripping the lapels of his blazer.

"Before you start going on about us sneaking around your girlfriend's back- Wait, let me finish," he said when she opened her mouth to protest. "I have a gift for you." he dug around his trouser pocket and pulled out an oblong box. He handed it to her.

She took it, eyes transfixed to the velvet box. "But Valentine's was last week."

"Open it."

Her expression was one of shock, amazement, amusement, and wonder all at the same time. He decided it was more of shock than the other emotions etched on her face. He could tell that she was rendered speechless at his gift upon opening the box.

"Do you like it?" he asked. He was worried that she wouldn't, and thought he should've gotten her something else. Maybe it's too much, maybe I-

His thoughts were interrupted when she spoke up. "Sebastian," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

On his own accord, his face split into a massive grin. He took the sterling silver diamante bracelet out of its satin lining, and she offered her wrist for him to clip it on. It gleamed at all the right places whenever the light caught on it, accentuating her slim wrist, silver on olive coloured skin.

"It looks nice on you." He couldn't help but grin at her; she wouldn't stop admiring it, twisting and twirling it around her wrist to inspect it at all angles. "If you take it off, -which I hope you don't- you'll notice a little something on the underside, but don't. Not now, at least." He rested a hand over hers when she made to unclasp it.

"You know," Santana started with a nervous laugh. "You're the first guy that I haven't seduced in _ages_ and tried to sleep with, 'cause I thought you were gay." Her face was inches from his, and he had to lower his eyes to look at her. Her familiar minty breath was tickling his nose; he could remember the very first time her face was as close as it was now.

He chuckled. "I thought I was, too." She stepped back, narrowing her eyes as she did, crossed her arms, and rested her weight on one leg, giving him an apprehensive look. If he knew any better, he could almost see the gears turn in her head, an insult or two forming in her devious little mind.

Then: "We kicked your swaying asses tonight," she said with a smug smirk.

"I saw that trophy in your choir room; a bit hard to miss, considering it's bigger than ours." He rolled his eyes, then looked away. He swallowed thickly and mumbled, "You were the only one I sang to tonight, you know. Not to the audience, not to the judges. You." From the corner of his eye, he could see her raise a plucked eyebrow. "Those songs- I chose them to sing to you."

"_Stand_ was hardly a love song," she playfully sneered at him, uncrossing her arms.

He chuckled nervously. "Uhh, yeah. That was for that Karofsky kid and all those people out there who-"

"Yeah, yeah, those poor kids out there who are being tormented on a daily basis because they act a bit more feminine or a bit too butch for their gender; I get it." She waved a hand flippantly. "And _Glad You Came_? I _had_ to be there, considering _you're_ on our turf now, prep boy, and we _had_ to be there, technically," she retorted.

"I _am_ glad you came. And," he added. "We didn't sway this time." He gave her a cheeky grin to which she rolled her eyes at.

"Look, I have to go," she said. She slowly back away from him, taking a few steps backwards.

He made a grab for her hand as she turned away. "No, don't." He didn't want to sound like a desperate and whiny guy, but he was sure he just did. "Go out with me. Tonight." His grip on her hand tightened, silently begging. He sighed. Has my feelings for this girl reduced to me a grovelling and snivelling guy now? Are those even the right feelings to act on? She has a girlfriend!

"We're going to BreadstiX to celebrate. You should come," she slowly said in uncertainty. "And bring the Warblers." Santana slipped her hand from his hold and walked away, not looking back.

With another defeated sigh, he banged his head once on the locker behind him and slumped into a messy heap on the linoleum floor. He didn't care if the public school dirt got on him, he didn't care if his clothes were going to wrinkle, he didn't care if the position he was in would give him bad cramps, he didn't care if his neck would get a crick from how it was slumped forwards; he _just didn't care anymore_.

Two and a half weeks went by since the _Smooth Criminal_ duel. Two and a half weeks since she walked into the Dalton auditorium and demanded he tell her what he had put in the slushie that damaged Blaine's cornea. Two weeks since he absently jogged to Lima Heights. Two weeks since he spontaneously apologised to her. Two weeks since he kissed her in front of her house. Two weeks since she kissed him back.

He had fought with his internal angel all Valentine's week. His ego didn't allow him to send Santana anything, but the angel -the only good parts of him that he had successfully suppressed over the years in boarding school in France- had fought its way out and stayed in his head for days on end, distracting him from studies and Warblers practices. It took an immense strength to block out the thoughts of obtaining Santana's number, to call her, to text her, _anything_, just to wish her a happy Valentine's day. He also managed to restrain himself from driving down to Lima himself with a bunch of cheesy roses and chocolates that he knew she was going to toss back in his face if he ever did such a thing. She was most likely to grind a foot on them, anyway. And so, his ego got the better of him. He didn't even follow Jeff down to Lima when he wanted to see Quinn that week. No, he stayed in his dorm room, composing on his guitar and keyboard while the world outside was drowning in hearts, flowers, candy, and the like.

He didn't have any contact with her for the rest of the week, save for the time he had called the New Directioners to the Lima Bean to apologise to them since the Karofsky news broke out between the schools. Sebastian hadn't expected her to be the one representing the misfits, but there she was, sitting in front of him. He wanted to give her the bracelet then, but her friends and Brittany were present, so he decided to wait. To wait for Regionaas in their school to give it to her then. After the Warblers won, of course.

"I'm such a joke," he said to the empty hallway with a loud scoff. Then he noticed two pairs of feet in his line of vision, near his thigh; a pair of shined and buffed dress shoes, and another pair of sneaker-clad feet.

"Sebastian? Are you okay?" a familiar voice asked. He looked up to see Jeff and Quinn in her Cheerios uniform looking down at him, concern in their eyes. They were holding hands.

He quickly stood up, brushing himself off the best he could, face composed and cool. "Yeah. Some asshole slammed me against the lockers. These public school kids," he sneered, buttoning up his blazer. "They'd let just about anyone in these days."

"You're such a jerk, you know that, Sebastian?" Quinn accused while Jeff simply rolled his eyes at his captain, obviously having heard his insults one too many times.

"I've been told," he answered Quinn coldly. Turning to Jeff, "Go get the Warblers; we're all going to BreadstiX." With a yank of his blazer, he strode away, leaving the confused pair standing in the hallway. "Stop staring at me; the both of you are boring holes into my back," he drawled to the hallway ahead.

Sebastian drove alone to BreadstiX alone in his Porsche, feeling angry at himself, angry at everyone else, in general. He knew Santana only extended the invitation to the Warblers so that it wouldn't raise any suspicion to anyone else that would think he and Santana had a thing. As far as the Warblers were concerned, he was a douche bag and was prejudiced against Latinos especially, simply because he thought them to be of a lower social status than he. Well, they can take that thought and shove it up their asses, 'cause Sebastian Smythe is -I'm going to say it- in love with Santana Lopez, he thought.

When he arrived, he noticed that everyone else had arrived; David's Porsche was parked behind Nick's SUV, next to Jeff's Audi. Santana's red convertible sports car was a few cars away from Kurt's Navigator. He parked next to it.

Upon entering, he immediately noticed that Santana was seated next to Brittany, holding hands under the table, no doubt. His face held a grimace as he weaved through the restaurant and plopped himself unceremoniously between Flint and Joey, who nodded at him in acknowledgement.

"I take it you guys aren't bummed anymore about losing Regionals?" Sebastian interrupted the ongoing conversation, uninterested in what they were talking about.

"It's just a show choir competition; we'll get them next year," Nick answered for all of them. He received nods of agreement from the rest of the Warblers.

Chuckling, David asked, "You're still not sour about that, are you, Sebastian?"

"Maybe we should've just stuck to swaying in the background, eh?" someone said. The group laughed in response. Sebastian just smiled thinly, leaning back on his seat. He twisted his head by just a fraction, glancing behind him where Santana was sitting. She appeared to be deep in conversation with Brittany. About unicorns, no doubt. He rolled his eyes.

Sebastian stood up in his seat slowly, the chair scraping on the tiled floor. "Be back in a bit. And guys, kindly tell those two there to get a room, or my food will back out." He gestured to where Jeff and Quinn were sitting, the latter on his lap, making out. "Then again, the refreshments McKinley served aren't most likely to stay down, anyway."

He strode to the table where Santana was seated at, along with Brittany, the Asians, Artie, and Sam. He stood at the edge, his tall frame casting a shadow over Santana, who obviously noticed, because she immediately stopped whispering into her girlfriend's ear. She glared up at him.

"What is it this time, preppy?" she snarled.

"I want to talk, outside," he said, nodding at the exit.

"Haven't you said enough? What could be so important that you couldn't have told me earlier?" She raised a challenging eyebrow.

He mirrored expression, hoping she'd just _follow him the hell out_, because frankly, he hadn't a clue on what to say to her to make her change her mind about them both yet. He just needed to get her alone so that he could spill his heart out to her, and wait for the last strike of the axe from her to tell him to stay the hell away from her and Brittany from now on.

She sighed. "Fine," she shrugged. To Brittany, she said, "Wait for me, Britts." The blonde nodded, offering Sebastian a small smile. Santana slid out of the booth, and led him to the car park outside.

Once outside, she pinned him between the wall and her body, trapping him. Her kisses were hungry, angry, and desperate, but he prised her hands away from the lapels of his blazer, earning him a confused look from her. This is it: time to grow a pair and tell her how he really feels. He has nothing else to lose; he already lost Sectionals to her, the emotional whirlwind that had been raging within him had won, and he'd already given her his Valentine's gift -which was still around her wrist, to his surprise. No, he definitely had nothing else to lose.

"I want to be with you, Santana. Officially, as in, to be seen with you in public; I don't want to sneak around with you anymore. I-" he sighed. "I think I-"

"No. No, don't say it. _Don't say it_," Santana whispered, eyes wide. Her hands slid away from his blazer as she took a step back away from him.

"I have to. I l-"

"No, stop it! Don't say it," she yelled at him. He could see angry tears welling up in her eyes, and he wished he could will them away. "Don't you dare say it!" Her hands were covering her ears, refusing to listen anymore.

"Listen to me, Santana!" he whispered-shouted at her. He took ahold of her wrists, which made her look up at him. "Stop this! I _know_ you; you're not this weak! For God's sakes, you're _crying_." Scoffing, he dropped her wrists and looked away, hands on his hips.

"N-No. You're gay, and I love Brittany." She was hugging her midsection now, heaving in deep breaths in silent sobs. "We can't do this."

"Why are you crying, really?" he asked, looking down at her. He couldn't bear himself to hate her right now; all he felt was a strange calm that swept over him when he was about to say those three words to her before she cut him off. He _knew_ she was reacting the way she is now because as afraid as she was to admit it, she returned his feelings, too.

"Because I- You said- No, you can't!" she screeched.

He reached out and cupped her cheeks in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Because I'm the first person to ever say those three words to you, and mean it. And," he added softly. "I'm not a girl."

Santana tore her gaze away from his brown eyes to look anywhere. Anywhere is better than admitting aloud that she's also in love with me, too, he thought as he slowly lowered his hands from her face. Her tears had stopped flowing freely down her cheeks.

She gave a small nod, small enough, but it was enough for him to notice. Then she nodded again, more confident this time. "Yeah," she choked out softly. "Yeah," she repeated again, louder. "I think I'm freaking in love with you, too. But my girlfriend's in there." She pointed to the restaurant. "Brittany's waiting for me to get back to her in there. I _love_ her, Sebastian. I can't do this to her with you; it would _kill_ her."

"No, you won't," a voice spoke up in the darkness. The pair whipped their heads around in shock as Brittany stepped out from the restaurant's alcove, a knowing smile on her face. She shrugged at the shell-shocked pair. "I saw you both kissing in the hallway. And Santana," she said to the brunette. "You haven't been like you were before since the night you went to Dalton to get him to admit he put something in Blaine's slushie; yeah, I've noticed.

"Truth is, you will always be my best friend, Santana. We're still young," Brittany shrugged again. "We can't really tell if we're straight, or gay, or bi; they're all just labels, just like being lame like Arite, or having Asperger's like Sugar, or being an attention-seeker like Rachel. We're only seventeen, and love comes in different shapes and sizes, friendship being one of it," she said with finality.

"Britts," Santana started, choking back a laugh, but she was smiling nonetheless. "When did you get so smart?"

Shrugging again, Brittany just said, "I may look it, but I'm not a ditzy dumb blonde girl in the cheerleading squad. And, Sebastian." She turned to the Warbler, who only stood in shocked silence since Brittany showed herself to them. "Take care of her; I know you can." With a smile and a small wave to the two, she turned and went back into the restaurant, hair bouncing on her shoulders.

"Well, then," Sebastian huffed, putting his hands into his trousers pockets and bounced on the heels of his shoes once.

"You," Santana crooned, taking a step towards him. "Are such a douche." She jabbed a finger on his chest. He laughed at her, eyes crinkling at the sides, and engulfed her in a hug. She wrapped her arms around him.

"Are we official now?" he mumbled, smiling into her hair.

"Yes."

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><p><strong>Do let me know what you think of my little fic here. Your reviews, opinions, criticism and insults will be much appreciated. (:<strong>

**Thank you for reading. **

**Lots of love, kisses, and hugs to all you darling readers! :D**


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